Nothing lasts forever
by Ereska
Summary: Harry has finally died. His former adversary reflects at his funeral. Voldemort's POV, no pairings


**Nothing lasts forever**

_A/N:  
The idea for this story just popped into my mind and bugged me till I wrote it down. Most of the story wrote it itself. I have almost nothing to do with it. There are probably loads of grammar and punctuation mistakes (this punctuation is really a problem for me because I don't know the rules). I would be glad if someone volunteered for correcting them._

_Important note: **Voldemort is a ghost in this story**!_

_Disclaimer:  
Everything of the Harry Potter universe belongs to Joanne K. Rowling. I just write for fun and don't want to make money with it.  
_

* * *

**Reflections**

They called you the greatest wizard alive. You probably were.

They called you the saviour of the Wizard World. You were indeed, many times.

They called you the _boy-who-lived_. And live you did, 142 years to be exact. But even you had to die one day, though not from my hands. It was never your destiny to die from my hands, unlike so many others.

Now I'm here on the grounds of Hogwarts next to Dumbledore's tomb, witnessing your funeral, although I had vowed to myself to never visit that place again. I'm invisible, of course. I wouldn't want anyone to see me. You're the first headmaster since _him_ to find your last rest here at the school. I'm sure you would appreciate it. You always loved the old man; you would see it as an honour to rest beside him. Even when he died - thanks to my obedient servant - you remained loyal to him. _Dumbledore's man_ they used to call you sometimes... just one of your many titles, but one you liked more than others, maybe because you earned it yourself.

Yes, I have known you. Probably better than most. Even my death could not entirely destroy the strange connection we shared; the connection that was formed when I failed to kill you for the first time. There are still many things about you I don't understand, even now after all the time; probably because we were to different, you and I. Two sides of the same medal... never able to see the other side. But I have known you; your deepest wishes, your feelings, your motivations... as you have presumably known me.

Many have come to say goodbye to their hero. Even after all those years your deeds are not forgotten. Much time has ceased since you defeated me and that wasn't your only exploit. I wonder, whether they realize what you gave to the Wizarding World, what you sacrificed for them. But then you never did anything for fame or to be rewarded. You did everything just because you... were you. Always believing in a greater good that was worth fighting for, always trying to save people, even if they might not thank you for it. To be honest... thinking like this is making me sick! It is so unlike everything I have always believed in and unlike everything I tried to achieve. My way was completely different; but then you never were a true Slytherin, although you had it in yourself.

You became powerful even beyond my imagination, powerful as I believed a light wizard could never become; actually more than the old fool - the only one, they say, I ever feared. Yet you never used that power for yourself; only to help people and to teach them. _So unlike myself again._ And that's why you are still respected... and loved.

Loved... not even now can I say that I understand the true meaning of the word, although I've tried. To love and to be loved... that were your greatest strengths and I wanted to understand them after my death. During my long isolation as a ghost I have reflected on them but today I think they are beyond my grasp. I still can not see what makes them so special. Dumbledore would probably laugh at me; he always said it was one of my failings to underestimate them. How I hate to admit that the old fool was right!

I watch as your grandchildren carry your body to the front. I watch as someone – he looks like another offspring of you – is holding a speech. Many people in the crowd are crying. No wizard's death was ever mourned as much as yours.

Who would have wept after my death? No one probably. Not that I care; I never wanted anyone to mourn me. I never wanted to _die_. But of course you couldn't allow this. You just _had_ to thwart my plans as you always have. To be fair... I wouldn't have allowed you to live, either. I guess one of us just had to die. And now death has claimed both of us.

It appears that the whole Wizarding World has come together here. Your students, your teachers, high ministry officials, including the minister of course, and old colleagues from the time when you still worked as an Auror, hunting what was left of my followers. You got them all... every single one of them. I almost have to admire your work. Who else could have achieved this - except maybe myself?

There are also many ghosts, like me. No, not like me, since I am special; even in death. And I'm the only ghost that was killed by you. You would probably disagree with me; say that you _did not_ kill me and you would even be right. But you were the cause of my death nevertheless and the result is the same. You never liked to kill. Also as an Auror you always captured them alive... apart from a few accidents. Did you ever use an unforgivable that worked? I doubt it! You were too much the good guy!

And there's your family of course. Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and others... a great number of the crowd seems to have red hair. That's what you get when you marry into the Weasley family!

None of your old friends are here since they all deceased before you; including your wife... I guess you are happy to join them. You were never afraid of death as I was. That's why I am still here and you are gone.

I watch as your body goes up in flames, watch as the fire rises in the air and devours your body. All that remains is another tomb, not white like Dumbledore's but a light, beige colouring. The funeral is over. People start to get up from their chairs. Some are already leaving but many remain. They place flowers and other gifts on your tomb and bid you farewell.

I watch as the place is clearing. I feel... regret... and a strange emptiness. And I remember the last time that we met...

* * *

_  
There will be probably two other parts that are completely different. I don't know when, though; probably when I find the time to write them down._


End file.
